Feb 06 2009
Straw Man 24
The sight inspired a myriad of feelings in his crinkly straw form. He felt the wind before it made its way to the trees and so he could predict when their leafy tops would flutter and bow. He felt the longing for his lost fields. He grieved their fate. If he had tear ducts, he may have cried. As it was, he could only moan with regret at not being able to stop his lovely field from burning down and, finally, his self deprecating feelings he had began to heat up. His straw sinew and guts began to feel tight. He felt the same he had on the day he met that insolent crow and torn apart his arm in an effort to lash the fell beast and knock it off his cross. He hated that feeling and by consequence anything that caused it. He loathed the bird and now all his wrath was focused on the fire. He wanted nothing more than to extinguish the blaze that had ruined his tranquil life. By the fire that raged within him at this moment, he would not rest until that inferno had been snuffed out.
